Death Mark'd Love Version 20
by Giovanna1
Summary: YES, NEXT CHAPTER *IS* UP. The second version of Death Mark'd Love, where Lady Alanna is betrothed to Duke Roger.
1. 1

**If you've never read the first (unfinished) version of Death Mark'd Love, then it doesn't matter. I prefer this one. This is for all the people who've been waiting (and I mean WAITING) for the next installment. My apologies for keeping you waiting for a little less than eternity.  
Giovanna**  
  
  
The short young woman stepped off the ladder, leather-shoed feet quietly connecting to the cold stone floor. Her dress rustled softly as she strode to the nearest table. She laid her books down gently, then returned to the shelf, brushing coppery strands of hair out of her eyes as they roamed over the titles.  
  
After a few minutes of carefully considering some more texts, she returned to the table and sat down. With a grim expression on her face, she opened the first book and began to skim through the pages, occasionally backtracking to reread some information.  
  
  
  
She looked up at the quiet call, her pensive expression lightening when she saw who it was. Ryana of Tierney, her closest friend at the convent, sat down opposite from her, her eyes curious. As usual, Ryana's long curly black hair was caught in two loose braids, the several escaped strands giving her an acceptablely disheveled appearance.  
  
Alanna breathed, leaning forward and hugging the dainty girl of sixteen. I haven't seen you for days - did it happen again?  
  
The girl's carefree expression faded away. Returning the embrace tightly, she whispered, Two days. Daughter Agnes stayed with me the entire time. Her breath caught in her throat. They say that priestesshood is my calling, Alanna.  
  
The red-head pulled away. Do they? she murmured, closing the book and pushing it to the center of the table. Alanna closed her eyes; if ladyhood was bad, priestesshood was worse. According to her, at least.  
  
Ryana of Tierney; dark and petite. Beautiful. Daughter of the Baron of Tierney, an important voice in court in regards to affairs in Tusaine and Tyra. Alanna's friend since the first day; Alanna the Loud and Ryana the Quiet, they'd been called, and they had had fun times in their six years of convent life.  
  
But no one - least of all Alanna, who was her roommate - could ignore Ryana's absences, which usually lasted one or two nights and occurred during the full moon. Alanna had once ventured into the Goddess' shrine during one particular absence, to see Ryana, eyes glazed, body stiff, in a trance, murmuring nonsense to the deity.  
  
The Daughters had told her to keep quiet. At first, they thought Ryana was merely mentally unstable, sick, but when Ryana kept on sleep walking to the shrine, they changed their minds.  
  
_At least we're leaving for Corus in a fortnight_, Alanna thought in relief, eying her friend through lowered lashes. _Hopefully these..., I'll call them, will stop.  
_  
Ryana began after a strained moment of silence. What are you reading?  
  
Alanna handed her the book she had pushed away. The Book of Gold.  
  
Mirhtos, why? asked Ryana as she flicked through the pages, her nose wrinkled in distate.  
  
With a sigh, Alanna pulled a crumpled letter out from a concealed pocket and handed it the girl. She'd read it so many times that she knew its contents by heart.  
  
  
_Alanna,_ [it read]  
_A tidbit from court: at the Midwinter banquet, King Roald decreed that Duke Roger of Conté is to be married. As of yet, bride is unknown. All that _is_ known is that the bride will be of the Book of Gold, and that the nobles are fed up of the Duke's promiscuous habits with the ladies of court, especially the unmarried ones, and complained. His Majesty has agreed to put a stop to it, adding that it's time for you [Duke Conté] to settle down.  
Watch your step. Ever since Father discovered those old archives and discovered the counter-spell to the Sweating Sickness, Trebond has been held in high esteem.  
Thom _  
  
  
Ryana read it twice. When she was finished, she handed it back to Alanna, frowning. You are...researching?  
  
Trying to assure myself that I am only _one_ of the dozens of ladies eligible for the title Duchess of Conté', Alanna replied dryly.  
  
Is it working?  
  
Alanna fingered the designs on the cover. Half of the families in here died out decades ago. Two thirds of the daughters of families which _are_ existant today are middle-aged wives. The remaining one third are ladies my age and younger.  
  
Ryana looked sympathetic. I'm sorry. Tierney only appears in the Book of Silver, and in the last several chapters at that.  
  
Alanna smiled dimly. Look at me, burdening you with my silly problems when you've just woken up. Standing up, she pocketed the letter and gathered the Book of Gold in her arms before dragging Ryana to her feet. Come, let's go get something to eat.


	2. 2

Is anyone capable of reciting the _entire_ spell for the creation of a Circle of Power,_ without_ reading it from your notes? Duke Roger of Conté asked. His voice, normally so suave, was now cold and clipped.  
  
There was a brief shuffling among the students as they shot anxious glances at each other. Thom regarded them with a lazy eye, silently laughing at their stupidity. _I can conjure a Circle of Power _without_ a spell_, he thought in contempt, letting his gaze settle on the Duke, who was starting to look more than a little impatient. _But I'll humor him._ He raised his hand.  
  
Roger looked slightly taken aback; Thom normally fell into an open-eyed daze during class. And when he _did_ participate, it usually was only to add a sarcastic comment or two. Wondering if this was one of those times, he nodded at Thom.  
  
Only him, or anyone else?  
  
Thom's hand remained a loner in a sea of lowered heads.  
  
Very well, sighed Roger, perching on the edge of his desk. Tell me, Trebond.  
  
As protocol demanded, Thom stood up, his hands clasped behind him. He cleared his throat, then began the words. I conjure thee, O great circle of power, so that you will be for me a boundary between the world of men and the realms of the mighty spirits - a meeting place of perfect love, trust, peace, and joy, containing the power I will raise within thee. I call upon the guardians of the East, South, West, and North to aid me in the consecration. In the name of Mithros and the Mother, thus I do conjure thee, O great circle of power! So mote it be. He smiled openly at the expression of surprise on Roger's face and at how everyone in the class was staring at him.  
  
After a brief silence, Roger cleared his throat. Very...good, Trebond. He bore his eyes into Thom's. But can you do it in the Old Tongue?  
  
With a small smirk, Thom spat out, Aswyna 'th , O 'n fawr amgarn chan allu , fel a byddi ata derfyn cyd-rhwng 'r byd chan ddynion a 'r deyrnasoedd chan 'r 'n alluog asbri chwrdd chyflea chan berffeithio cara , choelia , dangnefedd , a fenwyd , yn amgyffred 'r allu choda mewn 'th. Alwa ar 'r gwarcheidwaid chan 'r Ddwyrain , Dde , Gorllewin , a Gogledd at chyfnertha 'm i mewn 'r chysegriad. I mewn 'r enwa chan Mithros a 'r Fam , fel gwna aswyna 'th , O 'n fawr amgarn chan allu! Fel fflaw 'i bod.  
  
Silence.  
  
Inwardly shaking with amusement, Thom sat down, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest in an attitude of complete and utter boredom. By the time Roger got his act together and returned to teaching the class, he was in his usual wide-eyed stupor.  
  
_Class indeed._


	3. 3

**Next bit. Pretty short, but hey. That's life.  
Giovanna  
**  
  
Ryana found her friend in their room, sitting on her bed, another letter clutched in her hand. She was about to ask her if she would like to go to the residential seamstress with her, but thought better of it when she noticed Alanna's expression.  
  
What is it? she asked, approaching her friend. In a dull, lifeless voice, Alanna replied,   
  
A letter from Father. He says I'm... She closed her eyes and turned away.  
  
You're what? Ryana pressed, sitting down next to the other girl.   
  
Betrothed to Duke Roger, Alanna whispered.  
  
  
Thom was pulled out his light sleep by knocking. Growling under his breath, he got up and went for the door, opening it enough so he could see who was disturbing him.  
  
he started, blinking at the older man. He stepped back, allowing the burly warrior to enter the room, a familiar scowl on his face. What do you want?  
  
Letter from yer father, Coram said, tossing a sealed letter to the squire, who caught it with an expression of distaste. Thom opened it and with unbelieving eyes, read its contents.  
  
  
_Thom -  
Your sister has just been betrothed to the Conté Duke.  
She arrives in Corus sometime this week.  
- Lord Alan_  
  
  
What is it, lad? Coram demanded, noticing Thom's expression of utter incredulity. Wordlessly, the youth showed the warrior the letter. Then, with a sudden snarl, he crumpled it and tossed it into the fire. The parchment was devoured instantly.  
  
Lad - began Coram anxiously.  
  
Get out! hissed Thom, turning his back on Trebond's old sergeant-at-arms.  
But -  
  
Thom closed his eyes and took deep breaths, unwilling to throw one of the fits he was so well known for - self-centered Thom and his childish tantrums. He sighed in relief when Coram left, closing the door softly behind him. Alone again, he leaned his forehead against the window-pane.  
  
Damn you, he whispered.


	4. 4

  
  
No answer.  
  
  
  
No answer.  
  
  
  
With a sigh, the red haired young woman poked her head out of the other room, irritation written all over her face.  
  
What is it? she demanded.  
  
It's midday, Ryana replied, nodding and smiling encouragingly at the elegantly dressed servant next to her.  
  
Alanna crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her foot impatiently. Ever since they arrived the evening before, the young woman had been testy, snapping at the slightest irritation. This was all due to the fact that she was now in the same building as her betrothed. Still, Ryana sometimes felt like shaking her friend until the pieces of her brain rattled back into place.  
  
The servant, clearing his throat softly, stepped forward. My lady, Squire Thom of Trebond sent me to bring you to him. He informs me that he wishes a word before you go meet His Grace, the Duke of Conté.  
  
If Alanna felt anything, she kept it hidden. Instead, she sighed and looked away, the irritation replaced by a sudden fear. Of course, she said softly. She brought her eyes back to the man. One moment.  
  
Blinking rapidly, she disappeared into her room, where she hurriedly pulled on a light lavender dress which flattered her immensely. With trembling fingers, she loosened her hair, watching dully as the coppery locks fell past her elbows. She quickly shoved in the pins that would keep stray locks out of her face, then hurried back to the waiting Ryana and the servant. _I'm going to meet him looking my best_, she thought, straightening her shoulders as she followed the man out of the room.  
  
But no matter how strong she resolved to be, by the time the servant stopped at a door which had a plaque with Thom of Trebond written on it, her palms were moist and she was trembling. Alanna closed her eyes and tried to think of something - _anything_ - else.  
  
Meanwhile, the servant was knocking quietly on the door and answering the muffled question which came from inside. A moment later, the door opened; so did Alanna's eyes. When she saw who stepped out, she smiled nervously.  
  
Thom. Her twin. Still her height, with the same violet eyes - but there the similarities stopped. Where her skin was pale and her hair was a dark, fluid copper, Thom's head of sun-bleached red contrasted with a tanned complexion, darkened by hours spent working outside. He wasn't overly muscled, but his shoulders had filled out. He looked as if he had his body in total control.  
  
Shooting the servant a pointed glance, Thom lunged forward, grabbed Alanna roughly by the arm, and pulled her inside the room, locking the door behind him. Then, and only then, did he wrap his arms tightly around her.  
  
She found herself doing the same. Then she pulled away so she could look at her twin clearly. Thom took the opportunity and did the same.  
  
It was more than she could manage; her voice cracked. She flashed him a watery smile.  
  
replied Thom softly, still looking her over. This situation strikes me as similar. You in a dress, me in rough clothing, both unhappy with the situation.  
  
With a strangled laugh, she hugged him again. I'm never unhappy when I'm with you, she whispered.   
  
Thom sighed. Grasping her shoulders, he held her at arm's length away. I just wanted to look at you properly before I had to introduce you to them, he whispered, eyes searching her face. To...to see if... He swallowed. You've changed.  
  
Suddenly the floor seemed very interesting. Alanna licked dry lips. Have I?  
  
I don't know, was the reply. It was followed by a slow exhalation of breath. Thom's hard hand found hers and he opened the door once more, nodding at the servant.  
  
Take us to the Conté's.


	5. 5

**Ahhh, finally. *cough* Thanks to SOME people. =P  
Next chapter coming soon. Really.**  
  
Alanna froze in place, her hand tightly gripping Thom's arm. With a sigh, he stopped and turned to his sister, expression softening when he saw her mask of terror.  
  
I - I can't do this, the girl whispered, licking her lips. I can't.  
  
_You shoudn't _have_ to,_ he thought grimly, gently plucking her hand off him and drawing her into a brief hug. They won't eat you, he told her, wincing inwardly at the stupidity of the comment. They're human.  
  
They're _their majesties_, Alanna whispered, voice muffled; her face was burried in Thom's shoulder. My future husband and inlaws. I just can't!  
  
Thom blinked; as children, Alanna would never have shown her fear like she was doing now. Alanna was the fighter, the brave one - who _was_ this shivering young lady?  
  
Alanna, stop it, he told her sternly, drawing away to look her full in the face. Hold your head high and walk in with the pride of a Trebond - I know you have it. He paused so he could search her face, then added, They owe us.  
  
She sniffed as she examined the floor. I know. A watery grin spread on her face. Who would've guessed? The Trebond males, each one doing a great service to the Crown?  
  
Thom ducked Alanna's mock punch with a resigned air. he drawled, taking her hand in his. I do learn the basics after six years of training.  
  
A hint of her old spirit showing in her violet eyes, Alanna walked beside her brother silently as they made their way through the palace and down to the throne room. She noticed absently that the number of armed men positioned against the walls was growing; Thom murmured something to their guide, who stepped up to the pair of enormous doors they had just reached, and knocked.  
  
Thom commented, watching the servant slip inside the room. This is it.


End file.
